Please, Just Trust Me
by Soter-chan
Summary: Erik, a scene shifter at the opera populaire, has been getting voice lessons from a great teacher who has never shown her face. He overcomes his stage fright and delivers a grand performance that not only brings great fans, but also long ago friends. However, his teacher is not willing to share him yet, even if it is only with a friend.
1. Chapter 1

The darkness and silence seemed to creep up faster and faster every night. Frigid breezes became mini storms and nightmares became real in the deep depths of her mind. Never ending depression rattled her brain and the burden of herself crippled her poor soul. Escape from her own self pity was almost impossible, until that one fateful day.

* * *

A grand performance was looming in the future for all of the opera house. The stress was rising, voices were cracking, costumes were breaking, and sets were falling apart from the constant use of them in rehearsal. _Hannibal _was turning out to be more of a hassle than anyone thought and the new mangers weren't doing anything to stop it. The leading soprano, Carlotta, started to become more of a diva than ever and her little minion, Piangi became quite a picky performer.

All the notes were too wrong or the costume was too tight, no matter what the problem was Carlotta and Piangi could find something to complain about. Everyone else was beyond annoyed with these two imbeciles and wanted to find a way to get rid of them. Nonetheless, the cursed "Phantom" was sure to drive them out with one of her famous tricks.

Erik, a stage hand who tended to keeping track of props and curtains, looked curiously up at the catwalks above the stage to check if Joseph Buquet was keeping up with the fly rails. He wasn't. A deep sigh escaped Erik's mouth as he left the wing and walked towards the back to the stair case. Piangi's horrific voice echoed through the thick curtains and into the back of the theater. Erik held one hand up to his ear to deafen the sound and another on the rail to keep himself from falling. However, the rail did not help much when a blaring screech came from the stage. Erik's hands flew up and his body tumbled backwards landing him straight on his bottom. Rushing, he pushed himself up and ran to see what the commotion was.

"Buquet!" André, one of the new managers, yelled for the chief stagehand.

The fat and aging man stumbled onto the stage shocked. "I was not at my post, sir," Joseph looked around at everyone. "I'm sorry." He scanned the stage for someone who could possibly know what happened. "Erik!"

Erik had just gotten to the scene and was out of breath. All he saw was Carlotta fanning Piangi who had a sand bag weight inches from his foot. Gasping, he stuttered out, "I saw that you were not up there and I was just halfway up the stairs before Piangi screamed, monsieur." He was sweating from all the eyes locked on him and shifted back behind a curtain.

"And you were all alone back there, correct?" André's partner manager, Firmin, questioned.

"Yes," He stuck out his head and slowly nodded.

"It was the Phantom!" Meg Giry, a ballet dancer, screamed. "No one could have made that weight fall besides her!" The other young ballet dancers nodded in agreement.

Piangi kicked the sand weight and ended up grabbing his foot in pain. "Messieurs! This isn't the first time that ghost has attacked against me or Carlotta!" Never had the opera singer gone off like this. "Neither you two nor the old managers did anything about this! And while this is still happening, this thing will not happen!" Piangi stormed off the stage in a fit of rage.

"He'll come back after he calms down! Don't worry everyone!" Firmin reassured the cast and crew.

"Don't be so sure of it," Carlotta sneered.

The rehearsal was dismissed early and everyone but the backstage workers and ballet dancers left. The scene shifters were busy fixing up the ruined sets and occasionally mingled with the ballet dancers eager to take a break from Madame Giry's, the ballet instructor, never ending practice schedule.

Yet, Erik was in the chapel of the opera house. Whenever he felt anxiety, stress, or any form of sadness he would go down to the room. No, he did not pray there for his lost ones, but rather felt comforted by the love everyone else had for their dead. This quiet and serene atmosphere helped him think. Since he started this method, his anger has decreased and the feeling of relaxation hovered over him, supporting him to continue his days. How this was started, Erik did not know for he had been doing it even as a child in the opera house.

Growing up in the populaire was certainly interesting and gave the young Erik a greater sense of freedom than any other child. The vast space of the whole house always left areas for exploring and the city of Paris was almost like a whole universe. Being without parents meant to him that he could go and investigate as he pleased for the only one who would care was Madame Giry. In small alleys, Erik would gather supplies for tinkering and building little contraptions to help around the opera house. Although, he also created objects to help him with his indoor safaris as well. Such as a home made graveling hook to allow the eight year-old Erik to reach the rafters from the catwalks in order to hide up on the thin beams and watch the entire backstage at work. Even some of the old creations got made into large scale and used by the stagehands.

How the little boy ended up in the opera house was truly a tragedy. Erik was abandoned as a child at an orphanage, but once he became three he ran away. Being stuck on the freezing streets was better than the poor treatment he received at the orphanage, or so he claims. On a stroke of luck, one day a rather wealthy man saw the destitute child and was forced by his empathy to take him in. Erik never really knew his name but just called him by "Sir" for all the time that he lived with the man. Sir took great care in insuring Erik was well fed and well dressed. This man was a popular one and known all over France for being one of the kindest and most funny aristocrats. The parties he held were always elegant and extravagant. Rarely did the man have over only a few people, and when he did the only attendants were the Chagnys. Count Philbert de Chagny was a grand friend of the man and had two daughters and two sons. One of the sons was one year younger than Erik and the two got along rather nicely. Withal, that all changed.

When Erik was seven, Sir left him at home with the maids while he went out for business. Two days later, they were informed that the man had died in a carriage accident. Stricken with grief and a fear of going back to the orphanage, Erik yet again ran away from his home and was found by Madame Giry. The woman discovered him while purchasing bread. Erik was busy admiring a nearby pastry that he accidentally knocked over a whole table of fresh rolls. The baker was not too pleased, but Madame Giry payed for the wasted product. After that event, Erik permanently moved into the opera house.

But there Erik sat in the chapel engulfed in his own thoughts.

_How could that weight had fallen? _He pondered. "How?" Erik whispered.

"_Erik..." _A woman's soothing voice swirled through the air.

He knew who it was, his teacher. "Madame?"

"_It is me, your kind instructor," _The voice once again sung. _"They need a replacement for Piangi and you are perfect for the part, my dear. All my training will do you well."_

"I can barely handle the eyes of three people on me let alone three thousand!"

_"__You can do it. You will do it."_

"But! Teacher!" Erik stood up and looked around the room, but the voice was gone.

"Erik?" Little Meg peeked her head in the room. "The managers would wish to speak to you."

"Oh," He brushed off his pants and pulled on his suspenders. "I'll be right there."

The two managers welcomed Erik into their office and sat him down. They started off the conversation slow by asking how he was feeling and other common ice breakers. Erik spoke softly and held his head low answering every question. Quickly, Firmin and Andre dived into the topic of what he witnessed earlier today. They claimed that their curiosity was due to their new positions of managers for they were not used to these sort of things.

"We don't believe in all this silly Phantom business," Frimin said. "Do you?"

"Of course not, monsieur," Erik looked up.

"Great!" André clapped. "At least one of you isn't obsessed!"

"I'm sure the bag falling was due to a lose rope," Erik explained.

"If only Piangi and Carlotta would think that, too..." André sighed. "Now we need a replacement!"

"I c-could do it!" He stuttered.

Both mangers raised their eyebrows but requested him to sing. They were desperate. Erik tried his best to remember the melody of a common tune and went with a simple lullaby. What started out as unsure and crackly changed into a firm and velvet voice. Thoroughly impressed, they had him show his talent to the chorus director who in turn gave Erik the part. This came as a shock to everyone because they had never heard a voice so beautiful nor expected it to come from a scene shifter. Nonetheless, they all cheered that the show would not get canceled on a full night. Well, all besides Carlotta who believed that the part of a singer as "special" as Piangi should not be replaced with an inexperienced man such as Erik.

Over the course of rehearsals, Erik had gotten used to all eyes focusing on him. It was still hard to hit all the right notes with the pressure built, but he hit them. All of his worries seemed to fade away as the lyrics so beautifully rolled off his tongue and the tempo beat softly in his heart. No longer was he standing on an old stage surrounded by peers, but in his own little world. It made him seem like the room was his and the opera was nothing but silent. Even the whispers of the chorus couldn't get through his solid bubble of harmonic peace. And when opening night came, he was ready.

There Erik was, standing in the middle of the stage facing a huge audience dying to hear the new man sing his solo. He took deep breaths and focused on nothing but the rhythm. The prying eyes would surely had melted all his sense of security and stripped him off his dignity. That is if it wasn't for his musical shield that protected him from all stress, his voice. In confidence, Erik sang the part while staring at only one object, the chandelier. If he could tune out all the other faces and just focus on the sparkling crystals, he knew that he would never even flinch of fear. As the song came to the end, Erik put all of his faith in his final note and held it as long as his body could let him.

After he had finished, he stood there catching his breath as the audience roared showering him in affection. Gratefully, Erik held out his arms and bowed. Tears swelled up in his eyes and his self esteem shot high. Never had he felt so appreciated and respected then he had in that one moment. The audience loved him, and one in particular felt ever so proud of the signer.

* * *

Notes: This is posted on my wattpad under the same title and posted by the same user name so like don't get weirded out if you see two of these. Also, thank you for reading! I really like writing this au were Erik isn't the Phantom. It gives me more to work with and also lets me build up Erik based off other things than what the original story was given. (and no, this will not be Erik/Raoul)


	2. Chapter 2

Erik wrung out a wet towel and started to wipe off the heavy make-up that was caked on his skin. His dressing room was silent with only the soft piano playing coming from the excited cast celebrating a delightful night. The party was rather loud and he knew soon that Madame Giry would put an end to it, so there was no point in joining in. Besides, being around that many drunk people in a small space never entertained him, rather the great peacefulness of his empty room served as his reward of a grand performance. Most of the attention was given to Carlotta, which was fine with him, so his door was untouched all night expect for one little knock.

"Erik?" He heard a voice call from behind his door.

Immediately he thought of it to be Frimin ready to applaud him for keeping the full house from wanting any refunds, so he quickly opened the door. However, it was not Frimin nor Andre but rather an unfamiliar face. "Thank you for coming to laud over me, but I am rather tried."

"I think you can make an exception for me," The blond man welcomed himself inside.

Erik carefully studied him, trying to match his face with anyone he had met in the past. The man was tall with bright blue eyes and a complexion almost like a girl. He was still handsome, but beautiful would be a better word to describe him. As well, the man was not a commoner for he dressed with some of the finest fabrics out there. Erik had never met someone so well-heeled as him.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"I cannot believe you do not recognize me!" The man rose his arms up and threw his rose on the vanity. "It's me! We were playmates when I was little. I remember one time you lost your red scarf in a lake, and me being as small as I was, I ran in after it."

"And your father quickly scolded you!" Erik laughed. "Oh, Raoul, I'm sorry I didn't remember you sooner."

"Rik, I'm just glad that we are reunited again," Raoul hugged his old friend who rapidly ran from the embrace.

"No matter how many years have passed, my hatred for that cursed name nor your unneeded intimacy has changed," The singer growled.

"You are still the same: grumpy, rude, and introverted. It's hard to believe that you are even more of a humbug than you were at the age of five."

"Personalities rarely change, Raoul."

Raoul laughed. He really had missed his companion, for he was one of the only people who would play with him. Although, the two of them were opposites and often clashed, but fit perfectly together to make a friendship stronger than ever. Erik was always a pale and lankly child, taught to keep to himself and avoid people's eyes. Raoul, on the other hand, was tan and well built with the loudest personalty a kid could have. These two were like the moon and sun, but got along like a fish and water. Being without his best friend for so long, hurt the small vicomte but he had found him again and he could not be happier.

The two sat down on a couch and Erik steered the conversation over to Raoul, trying to avoid attention. Being as he was, Raoul was more than willing to oblige to talking about himself. He unrolled his entire life story starting from where Erik ran away. The vicomte did have more hardships than just spoiled tantrums, but rather told about the misery of how alone he was. Not surprisingly, most of his friends where in it for more gain than just companionship. Raoul also was not good at sports, or wooing women as his brother was. He was more funny, down to earth, and wished to love someone but could not succeed at getting them to love him back. This wasn't because no one wanted Raoul, no he was adored by many women, but Raoul had a "waiting for the right one" complex. If a women was bold enough to make an advance on him, he would return in asking everything about her and would then judge if she's worth his time. His goal was to find his perfect bride, not someone he would only love for weeks. Such a request could seem as selfish or prude, but his intentions for himself were to find someone kind and caring, not mean and only in it for his fortune.

Erik tried to empathize with his life, but it was difficult. Sure, Erik was a handsome man, but his social-awkwardness made him seem pathetic when it came to dating. He had many crushes and tried to ask a girl out, but would stutter too much or wreck it completely. When girls had feelings for him, it was miracle for more than one reason. His personality was always rather rough and his humor dark, which did not help his image with women. At points he would seem mysterious and he could make a girl swoon, but if she dared to speak his exterior would crumble to reveal his shy interior. Erik could only dream of what it was like to be raised like Raoul, with admirers, money, and everything handed to him on a sliver spoon. Envy started to sprout in Erik's heart, but was quickly put out when he realized that he had it and had a chance to keep it. He was the one who threw it all away out of fear. Not only that, but he was delighted that such a warmhearted friend lived a grand life.

"So, you don't have a bride already?" Erik questioned. "Someone as charming as you?!"

"Please," Raoul sighed. "I wish I did, but it just seems that no one is right."

"I think you are being too picky," He raised his eyebrow. "Women are not like chocolates you can pick and choose, they are like actual humans that you have to get to know."

"I am aware of that, Erik!"

"I know you are, but you need to remember that next time you see a woman," Erik crossed his arms. "Don't act like you're too good for them either, because I can imagine you doing that."

"I'm very humble!"

"That is what you think."

Raoul grunted. "I came here to see an old pal, not be hounded by him about how I act. That is why I would like to ask you to come to supper with me, we have a lot of catching up to do."

"Raoul, I wish I could but I can't," Erik's eyes widened. "I am too tried."

"Nonsense! You are just coming up with a reason to not spend time with me!" He laughed. "I know I can be annoying, but humor me and spend sometime with me."

"I can't! Really!"

"I'll be back in ten minutes. I shall get my hat and hope that you have that paint off your face!" Raoul walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Erik made his way over to the vanity and picked up the rose. He carefully looked at it and rubbed the spots were the thrones used to be. "I only wish you understood..."

"_Who was that?!" _Erik's teacher's voice boomed.

"Just an old-"

_"You cannot see him tonight, your triumph was too great to spend with someone like him."_

Erik was unsure of what she meant by that but replied, "I understand that he probably does not have all the respect of the arts that you have."

_"Anyone has more respect than him!"_

"I-I know..." He trembled.

_"Do not fear me child, for you are safe with me; to prove so you shall see why in shadows I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!"_

Erik looked at his reflection in the long mirror against the wall. He stared for a while trying to find her, but then he saw a light and sure enough, a lady's face adorned with a mask stood inside. He was utterly baffled and speechless. There she was, the voice that had been instructing him for so long, the voice which comforted him in sleepless nights, and the voice that had slowly started to control more of his life.

"Come with me," The mirror seemed to disappear and a gloved hand reached out of a cape.

Erik shook, but took her hand. He was dragged into darkness and the mirror closed behind him. His teacher grabbed a lantern and led him through a musky hallway. In awe, he admired everything he saw down to the mud footprints on the ground. How could a hidden system like this be inside the opera house? And how could he have missed it? Slowly, she led him down more hallways and tight staircases. He willingly followed behind, with her hand only releasing his for brief moments to check that no one stalked behind them.

Above in the dressing room, Raoul was vigorously jolting the doorknob, which was not complying. He tried knocking, banging, and kicking but the door would not budge. Screaming out for the absent Erik did not help either. Finally, Raoul gave up and walked away, only to hear the door slowly creek open. He jumped inside and checked the room. Erik was gone, but gone with who?

Oddly enough, Erik was pondering the same question. Who was he with? He knew she was the voice, but really who was she? Her identity was hidden with the white mask that covered all her face except for her eyes and the small part of her jaw where her mouth was. Thank goodness for the mask though, because it was the only way he would have been able to see her in the darkness (spare the lantern). The black dress she wore was only highlighted with small amounts of white lace and little red flowers, although most of the dress was covered by her black cape. Erik also took note of the lack of a bustle, which might allow her to move quicker. Possibly she wore all black to hide?

At last they met the end of the last winding staircase and stepped upon a lake shore. The mud was compact and yet felt squishy under his feet. Carefully, she helped him on a boat and hung the lantern at the bow. He scoffed at the idea of the small lantern illuminating their whole path across the lake that was blanketed with fog. Almost magically, as they pushed off from the shore, candles started to bob up and down in the water, allowing Erik and the strange teacher to see more.

Through the mist, Erik could see a shape that looked almost like a house. As they got closers, he was able to make out an organ, table with a few chairs, and many curtains covering what he did not know.

His teacher pulled the boat to shore and hiked up her dress, stepping into the rippling water.

"Oh no, madame," Erik got out and helped her. "You do not need to help me, I would rather help you."

"Just because I am a woman does not mean that I can't get my petticoat wet," She sneered.

"No, I didn't mean it like that."

"If you say so, Erik," His voice rolled off her tongue uneasily, like one might say trying to read a word for the first time.

They both walked to the solid ground, soaked mid-way to their calves. Erik's teacher untied her cloak and offered it to him. He refused and she tossed it on a chair.

"I know you just had a performance, but would you mind singing for me?" She asked gesturing to the organ.

"None at all, teacher."

"Christine."

"Christine?" Erik looked at her confused.

"That is my name. It's terribly awkward with you calling me teacher in these close quarters. I would prefer if you called me that here," Christine sat on the bench. "Now, sing for me."


End file.
